


There's More To Us Than Hay, Dirt, And Blood.

by Trash_Child_King



Category: overwatch
Genre: Farmer!AU, Hayseed Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, M/M, Mako just wants quiet, My First Fanfic, Please be nice, farmer!Mako, hayseed is a shennaniganizer, m/m - Freeform, seriously a little shit. and always confused, will be violence in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_Child_King/pseuds/Trash_Child_King
Summary: After spending years on saving, grueling, and toiling under other people Mako is finally able to achieve his paradise. A small farm with acres of silence and solitude. But paradise it seemed never lasted long. Something was afoot. Something was watching him. And was it just him or did that scare crow that came with the property start to actually move?He hadn't planned on purchasing a haunted farm. But he'd be damned if that was going to stop him.He just hoped he wouldn't regret those words.~~~~~~~~A.K.A Mako's haunted farm is protected by a amnesic cursed scarecrow who  just wants to know what the hell happened to him and bug the poor farmer out of his wits. My first fanfiction really that wasn't oc. I apologize if it's bad but i just really love this AU and these trash kids.





	1. Ch.1 A rude Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there everyone! so this is only the second fanfiction I've ever really written before. So please be kind about errors. I do have a beta though! so she's my saving grace seeing as i write at like 11pm at night haha.
> 
> Anways i love these trash children and this au is just hilariously cute.

He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t feel anything. But he was there. He was there in this suffocating darkness. He thought. That was a jarring notion. How long had it been since he actually thought something? How long had it been since he had any sort of idea float about in the emptiness that he had awoken too? Was he awake? Who was he even to begin with?  He wasn’t sure. All that he knew was that he was there. 

But then it came back, it all came back at once like a  weight onto him. His lungs rattled as he choked on the very air that had tried to fill his lungs. It felt achy and wrong. So wrong and old and somehow familiar all at once. The harsh fabric against his face helped little in his wheezy gasping. Was that him making that noise? The sounds around him came back full force, making him wince. The sounds of crickets and the call of a barn owl were grating to his ears. He still couldn’t see. How did he do that again? His muscles felt so heavy, like they had rusted and then turned to stone. He had to put every muscle into focusing on the thought.

_ Just open yer damn eyes. _

There was a creaking sound as his vision opened a hair's width open. They closed again to open with a groaning sound that only seemed to get worse with every blink. It took him a good few minutes until he was able to move his eyelids more easily.  He cheered himself on mentally, as if what he did was some sort of miracle. He guessed it was in a sense, he took the new freedom to take in his surroundings. 

It was dark around him, the only source of light was the moon above him illuminating the countless rows of corn that surrounded him. He couldn’t move still but he could assess, could think of this new place. Why was he so high? He felt himself hanging from a pedestal of some sort. How long had he been there? Why was he there? He wasn’t sure. Not at all.

Off in the distance was a two story house, there were no lights in the windows. They must be sleeping. Whoever lived there must have known he was out there.

Why didn’t they help him? Did they do this to him? What if no one was even there and he was left to die in this cornfield? The thought made him wail in frustration.

If he could only move. Not even a pinky seemed budged. That didn’t mean he wasn’t trying his hardest. His eyes were hard enough to get working, but he wasn’t going to stop trying.

If he did perhaps he would fall back into that nothingness that had taken him for so long. He couldn’t risk it. 

He didn’t want to even think of what would happen if he did, or how long it would be until he woke up again.

_ Think. Think. What can ya do? Ya can move. Just do it! _

He pushed and pulled on himself inside, straining to get his muscles to move.  Finally after what seemed like eternity he was able to move his arms. They were hanging loosely over the cross beam behind him.  

He grunted, biting his lip as he tried to lift his arm. It slumped over the rail only to hand in the rope. One down another to go. He was able to get more control over his muscles. Next to fall was his other arm, he sat suspended by his arms, his feet...foot, was already dangling from its small perch it had been settled on. Did he only ever have one? Where was the other? He panicked a little. The only sound was the grasshoppers and the almost hyperventilating pants that came from his own breathing. The lack of air made him dizzy.

Slow down. Deep breaths. 

He struggled against the ropes, the cord dug into his skin. He yelped into the harsh fabric covering his head as the ropes snapped. He fell face first into the dirt. He knew his face would bruise from the heat that ran along his temple and cheek. His body was aching from holding his arms up like that for so long. Oh well it was better than nothing. He sat up and took stock more of the world he had woken up to.

The corn rows stood taller than him now. He didn’t have a leg so he would have to make do with either crawling or finding an aid. He looked around, noticing the post he had been hanging off of. The side pole had come loose, making the scarecrow grin. Using the post that was dug into the dirt he hauled himself up. He took a moment to regain his strength. He reached up, his flesh hand wrapped around the cross beam before using his body weight to pry it off.  He stumbled again into the dirt, but this time he gave a manic giggle. He flailed the beam in the air in victory. “Got yah!”

He stood once more and started to hobble, he took in his other hand, this one wasn’t like his normal hand.No it was made of some sort of claw.He had to admit it wasn’t bad looking. He had more things to wonder though. One being where was he?

He. He. He. Who was he? What was even his name?!

He growled in frustration. “Hell I’m gonna make me-self mad with all this thinkin’. Just find someone first then yah can babble on mate.”

He had to get to the house.  Goal one. Goal two was to....He wasn't sure. He would just worry about goal one first.

When scarecrow finally breached the never ending rows he gave another giddy cackle. He was free. He started to move towards the house when he heard a noise. He turned towards a small shack to the sound of clucking. 

_ It’s a chicken coop ya drongo. _

That sounded right. He moved towards the coop, curious at the animal’s cooing. Peeking in with glowing eyes he tittered, they were all fluffy balls asleep. He quietly opened the coop latch, only to squawk in panic as the chicken awoke in a terror. Their own crowing was loud and alarming. He reeled back as the old wood of his crutch snapped.”Shit!”

The chickens fluttered around his body as he rolled onto his side. The chickens were loose. Damn it. “Wait. wait. Wait! Come back!” He patted the ground to lure them back. Surprisingly a few of them did come back, clucking and sitting on him. But he had a problem. His support was broken. 

A light flickered on in the second story window.

_ Oh shit. _

_ A lights on. So someone is here. _

He froze in his sprawled state, petrified over the shadow that blocked the light out for a moment. He didn’t look normal. He wasn’t normal. He somehow knew that. Deep Deep down inside he somehow knew he wasn't something a stranger in the middle of the night would just welcome onto a property. It was plain as a sunburn. His muscles seemed to fall into a autopilot and went limp. Why? He should have been running, hobbling, hell even crawling to the corn field to hide. Why did he just play dead? He wanted to fight against it, but his mind and body didn't seem to feel like being compatible at that moment.

He wanted to look up. But he didn’t.

At the sound of the door slamming he flinched but other than that played possum. The massive footfalls were worrying but he didn’t really take stock as he heard a gravelly voice curse as he rounded the chickens once more. He watched the stranger. The man looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place as to where. He wracked his brain but got nothing.   
“Damn kids.” The farmer grumbled, in his free hand was a gun. It was large and double barreled. He didn’t move now, definitely not now.

“How did you get all the way out here?” He knelt down and it only seemed to make his shoulders more massive. “What happened to your leg?”    


_Beats me mate._

He wanted to say that but thought better. Instead he took stock of the new comer. He was build like a brick shit house, with shoulders and a chest that went for days. His face had two long scars across the bridge of his wide nose. His dark deep set eyes were framed beneath massive silver eyebrows. The eyebrows themselves looked as if they were small animals that were asleep on his face. His thick lips were large and the top lip was dimpled by lower canines. His silver hair was like a mane that draped around his face. His large hand inspected his missing leg, tilting his face back and forth as if checking for any other signs of damage.

“Well we’ll patch ya up in the morning.” The farmer grumbled, he was picked up easily with one hand. If he hadn’t been so confused by the soft voice he would have yelped. But he was nice. Really nice. But maybe that was him being biased? He only said two sentences. He was settled over the man’s shoulder.  “Come on Hayseed.”

Hayseed. Hayseed. Hayseed. Hayseed. Was that his name?

He wasn’t sure but it sounded right. He liked it, he felt like it fit. He felt giddy to be able to call himself by his name. No longer just _ He _ . _ He _ was now Hayseed.

He was Hayseed, but who was this man? He owned the land. But who was he? 

He didn’t get long to cherish the name and ponder the word which he mumbled silently behind his mask. The scarecrow was set gently on the table next to a pen. The man was shirtless, that was okay. He looked tired and annoyed. That was also okay. He wondered what the man looked like with other expressions. Did he have other expressions? Hayseed really wanted to know. “Night Hazel, piggies. Damn kids and their pranks.” The man grumbled and trudged back out of the barn, the doors closing and latching locked. The pen next to him has a pig in it, and some smaller ones that looked like the big one. After hearing the front porch door close he sat up.

“Hayseed. I like it.” He giggled, blinking lazily behind his lenses. He turned to the pig and piglets that looked at him curiously. Slowly he got up, using the wall for support as he came closer to the pigs. They seemed genuinely curious of him, though the mother was wary. He leaned over the railing. His mechanical hand came out to pet one of the little ones. It oinked happily and snuffled into his claw. “Me name’s Hayseed. Are you Hazel?” He laughed gleefully as he crawled into the pen. The mother, Hazel came in close, sniffing him defensively before giving a disinterested grunt at him. The piglets that had been hiding came out and surrounded him. He keened happily at the small animals and  petted them as if they were fragile things. They were but that didn’t stop Hayseed from bouncing happily from his seat at the animals nuzzling down around him for sleep.

He was glad that he had made a new group of friends. He was glad to have companionship. It wasn’t until then had he known how lonely he was. How long had he been gone? Everything looked vastly different, but somehow the same. He couldn’t even remember what the same even was to begin with. The crickets chirped on and a mourning dove could be heard outside. He didn’t know, and at the moment was glad just to be there.

Staying awake was another issue, the snoring of the piglets and the calm of the barn seemed to have settled around him. The lull had him feeling heavy. His lenses blinked tiredly a few times before finally closing.

Hayseed would figure everything out when he was more awake.

Hayseed had awoken to nothing. But he didn’t go to sleep that way. 


	2. Chapter 2: A Strange Start To The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako had a odd start to the day, but he's a busy man. He has little time to mind really ponder what shenanigans are really afoot. And Chopper, his mini pig has decided she's taken a liking to the odd little scare crow.
> 
> Too bad her owner isn't more aware that not everything is as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! as said i would post this weekend! ahead of other notes I will say that some chapters will be either hayseed or mako, others will be both! its really what i'm feeling at the moment. This will also mean not every chapter will be short, or long. again its all on the whim of my muse.
> 
> ALSO I want to thank the commentators techno and Aedlaregine for being such lovely people and giving me their loving comments! cheers dearies!

Mako had gotten little sleep that night, too busy worrying about someone or something trying to get in with his pigs. He loved his pigs. He may live a simple life but it was more fulfilling than what most people did in their lives. On top of his crops and vast expanses of woodland and fields he had a good amount of livestock. Those pigs were not only his livelihood but his prize possessions. They were his family.

  
The bed dipped as Chopper shuffled onto the bed, rousing with the sun. The mini pig squirmed onto his stomach and began to snort at him. It was breakfast time and the pig would not be delayed from her food. He cracked open an eye and grunted. “I’m up you brat.”

  
Chopper stumbled toppled off of his stomach as he sat up. The livestock were barking outside for their food. Just like his precious mini pig they wouldn’t wait. The farmer stretched and his back popped sickeningly loud. Though to be honest the jolting felt as if every vertebrae fell back into place. Large feet thudded onto the dark cherry wood floors.

  
Chopper danced around him as she snorted at him as she cried for food. She knew all too well his morning rituals. He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Next came brushing his teeth, combing the massive mess of hair into a ponytail, and got dressed in his dungarees, flannel, and a tank top. When he finally came down Chopper had settled herself next to her bowl as she waited patiently. He opened the fridge and got her breakfast ready. Chopper got a mixture fresh vegetables, some pellets and some fruit. He didn’t spoil her too much, not wanting to let the mini pig get to obese from human food. He knew it wasn’t good for her, but every now and again he would give her a ice cream cone or two. He couldn’t not give her one when she gave that look when he ate any sort of sweetie.

  
Dog bowl on the floor he went to the door, heading out to let the animals out and to feed them. They were calling enough to garner his attention from his own breakfast.

  
The chickens waited patiently at the hutch door, clucking and cooing as he opened the door. They began to scuttle about the dirt, looking for bugs and the like to consume. Scattering chicken feed took less than a minute and the chickens were ecstatically fussing over it with each other. Next on the list were the pigs. The happy oinks of Chopper as she went out her doggy door could be heard as he unlocked the barn door. The small pig scurried around his feet into the barn to say hello to her cousin’s.

She wasn’t actually related to them, they were show hogs that he sold to the local Young Farmers Club. He loved them dearly but it did good to see the local kids get into the agricultural game.

  
Mako paused in his lumbering to the pig pen, burly eyebrows furrowed as something seemed off. The scarecrow was missing. It was no longer on the table on which he had laid him. Confused and on guard he walked to the table. Did some kids get in again without him noticing? Maybe some coyotes snuck in? No that wouldn’t be it. He would have heard the pigs giving out the alarm. He grunted and shook his head. He’d have to get a new one. It was a shame really, he kinda liked the disturbing little thing.

  
When he bought the property the scarecrow was hiding off in the shed, it was worse for wear. It was missing the forearm of its right arm, hay spewed out onto the ground below. And if Mako was to be frank it was creepy as hell.

  
The farmer had never seen a dummy made with such disturbing realism. His mask had lenses instead of eyes, the rucksack on its head was stitched onto the skin. It was the skin that was the most disturbing part. The skin was so realistic that at first he thought he had stumbled across a dead body, macabre's into a puppet of some sort. But the hay told him otherwise. And it did It’s job well enough, keeping the birds away from his crops. Over time it grew on him.

  
But when the farmer had gotten to his pig’s he froze, meaty hands curling into fists. The scarecrow was in the pen. How in the hell did he get over there?

  
Chopper had settled on investigating herself, settling on its lap and snuffling at the scarecrow’s face. It laid prone as the piglets played around the thing. How did it get all the way across the barn? How? It sent his mind bumbling off in annoyance. It didn’t matter. He had things to do today. Unlike other farm’s he still farmed the same way his ancestors did. He didn’t use most modern farm equipment, instead using a horse and plow to get most of his crops into the soil. He had to use machinery in the jobs before he bought the farm and he was done with them. To loud, too many issues, and in his opinion too lazy to be called farming equipment. It wasn’t farming to him anyways.

  
He shook his head, shooing the pigs away with a large hand and grabbing Hayseed with the other one. Chopper squealed in annoyance, chasing after him as he trudged over to the table. “Time to get yah fixed up.”

  
The leg had gone missing. He didn’t know where it could have possibly vanished to. If he had a hunch it was whomever had snuck onto his property to mess around with his animal that had taken it with them. Probably as a trophy. “Punks.” He growled a little under his breath, thick lips settled into it’s usual frown.

  
He would have to find a alternative for his leg. He couldn’t have a scarecrow without a leg. Not that it would ever need it. Looking around he noticed and old cane. His brows raised and he snatched it up. It must have been from the old couple that had lived there before he bought the property. Breaking it he began his work.

  
The giant stuck it into the hay of his right leg, tying it firmly and securely into the leg. He gave a gruff laugh at the new image of it. He looked like a pirate to be honest. “It’ll do.” was all he said.

  
He picked up the scarecrow, annoyed over the fact that Chopper kept running under his feet. “Hey enough.” He grunted and headed out to the field. To be honest Mako hadn’t noticed the cross beam last night and that made him confused. Why was that there? And it was broken. Great.

  
He got another beam and headed out to the field, on arm held the beam over his shoulder while the other hand the dummy tucked under his arm. The sun was well over the horizon. Chopper had taken to trailing behind him, squeaking her complaints as she tried to get to the Hayseed. He was curious as to why, she never seemed interested in the thing before now. If anything she had a common disinterest for anything other than her food dish, Mako, or her cousins. She didn’t like most people, especially the children that would come on field trips from time to time to visit his farm and learn. So why was she so interested now?

  
It beat him, she was a odd little thing.

  
Setting the scarecrow down he set to work. Mako hummed a little as he did. The mini pig took to running around and calling to Hayseed, as if talking adamantly to it. She settled on its lap and sniffed it. The corn was coming in fine, he needed to do little to keep it healthy other than a good water and make sure there weren’t any infestations that would potentially ruin his crops.

  
He didn’t have to worry about crows for the most part, Hayseed scared most of them away.

  
Mako picked up the field guardian easily, setting its arms once more behind the cross beam. He began to tie it up once more, securely ensuring that it wouldn’t fall over on its own before heading back towards the house.

  
Chopper had other plans. She sat at the base of the post, whining and squealing up at the scarecrow. The farmer turned, brows furrowed. He trudged over and knelt down, petting her. “Come on. It’s just a scarecrow.”

  
That’s all it was, all it would ever be. Not that it would ever matter. Getting up he called after the pig. Who after a moment of intensely staring up at the scarecrow followed after her owner with a oink.

  
Neither seemed to notice or felt the eyes that followed after them, or the smile that was hidden behind the stitched one.

  
The mischief behind it held so many promises, most were surely not something the farmer would be all that happy to find.

  
Oblivious to this Mako went about his day, more than happy to do his usual. After breakfast he let the horses, Whetu and Tane out to pasture, worked on mowing the roadside ditch, weeding between the rows of corn, letting the pigs out to wander, working on the small garden, moving the grain from last season. He worked diligently, silently, and quite happily in the solitude.

  
But after a while something felt odd. Like something was watching him as he dutifully did his daily work. The giant of a man would pause every so often, gazing out onto his land, those dark deep set eyes scanned over his property for a intruder.

  
There was none. Of course there wouldn’t be. But he couldn’t stop his keen sense from searching for an intruder. Maybe it was whoever messed with his scarecrow? He shook his head as he pulled a weed a little too aggressively. His dungarees were covered in dirt. Sighing he stood, snatching up the small rucksack of unwanted weeds. By the time his work was done the sun was starting to set. Chopper had made herself scarce, having headed back into the house for her second nap for the day. The lazy thing.

  
Mako trudged back to the barn, feeding the animals and getting them settled in for the evening. He couldn’t get the itch of eyes off of him, disgruntled over it he headed onto the porch steps, ready for a shower and a good dinner.

  
His home was simple, modern compared to his farm life, but simple nonetheless. He had a moderately sized t.v, a nice cozy chair, and all the amenities that came with any normal home.

  
He got a good relaxing shower in before starting dinner. It was simply left overs of lasagna that he had made a few days earlier. He was too tired to really make anything. Afterwards he settled in for a good name.

  
“Good day.” Mako grunted as he settled chopper onto his lap and turned on the telly. The pig only grunted in agreement before dozing off.

  
Her master was quick to follow in his footsteps. Neither of them aware of the curious eyes that honed in on the house.

  
It was a good, simple, well done day.


	3. The Game Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayseed finally gets a chance to really take into the world and explore, but if anything he's really wanting to get into trouble. But there is a game he's decided to play. 
> 
> The only question was, would it be pulled of successfully? 
> 
> He was sure it was, after all only a brilliant man would come up with such a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow 9 comments and 8 bookmarks! You lovelies are way to sweet! thank you so much everyone. I would like to thank in this chapter to my other commentator InkMango the Fabulous. Thanks for stopping by!

The sun had already set when he finally moved, head turning to the house. Hayseed had been itching to move all day, being strung up on the cross beam was wearing him down. But it wasn’t a weariness in his limbs but more in his mind. He was bored of just sitting there. 

He was itching to get down from that stupid post. Now that he was awake he felt as if he had to make up for lost time.

And for whatever reason that amount of time lost felt like a lot. How he knew that? The scarecrow wasn’t sure.

He wanted to explore, and maybe to get into a little trouble while he was at it.  He thought that he was going to be in trouble when he was first found by the farmer. The lumbering giant that he was. He felt that if he could remember he would guess he had never seen a bloke of such stature. He was sure that he was just going be tossed off to the side when he was found in the pig pen. Or maybe broken in half.

Probably the second of the two options. His hands were large enough to crush his skull with little effort he reckoned.

But more than anything the farmer just seemed surprised at him. His pig on the other hand had already figured him out. Just like all the other animals. 

That was okay, this one was cute and small. It was different looking, just like it’s owner. He didn’t mind the funny little patchwork pig. He wondered as to why it didn’t live in the barn. But his thoughts were squashed before he could really delve more into the notion. He was picked up like a ragdoll, easily in the large hand. He couldn’t help but grin wildly under his stitched one. His body fell limp as it did last time, but it was voluntary.  

His hand was warm. Why was he so warm? Hayseed hadn’t noticed how cold he was until he was touching another living thing. Why was he so cold compared to the farmer? To the pigs? The pigs were warm but the farmer? He was so much warmer than the pigs. It felt...nice. 

Nice. Was that the right word? Hayseed thought so. 

The farmer was nice, the pigs were nice, it all was just very...nice. 

He was set on the table gingerly, again. Maybe this would be his new home, he was here often enough.

When the farmer told him he had to fix his leg he was excited, but he wasn’t sure exactly how they would fix it. He didn’t have a leg. How did one fix not having a leg? He could have laughed at it, that was until he saw the giant snap a piece of wood in half. He swallowed, the lump in his throat hidden beneath the fabric.

_ How was he gonna do it? _

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

His body frozen not in the voluntary sense anymore. He was actually scared of those hands. 

But the farmer hadn’t hurt him yet had he? He picked him up and had set him on the table right?  He hadn’t thrown him about like a toy. He had made sure he wasn’t broken last night.

He had to laugh mentally. More broken than he already was anyways. 

He didn’t even know the man’s name and he felt an odd trust to him. He would fix him. He was sure. 

He was readied himself for pain but was surprised that when the stick was jostled into place and no pain other than a kind of pinching twinge at the very end. That was odd. Why didn’t it hurt? It should have hurt. He felt like it should have been extremely painful. But it wasn’t. Maybe if it had been he would have reacted. 

Probably would have scared the living hell out of the farmer. That would be an interesting conversation to say the least.

After that he was being taken back to his post. The pig had followed after. To find out it’s name was Chopper. He wanted to play with it, but the closest thing he got was the pig cuddling up and snuffling his face as he sat on the ground, dreading all the while being put back up on the post. 

He wondered again why his stillness felt right. Like he should just stay still until the other man had left. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t? Something told im that he shouldn’t. It would be bad, really, really, really bad if the other figured him out.

He would wait. And he had... and now it was time to move.

Finally the all of the house lights were out. Hayseed chuckled to himself, amused as he slipped from the ropes. It was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

He stumbled to the ground gracelessly,  but he bet even before he woke up he wasn’t that graceful. He bet his good leg on it.

He staggered up onto his new legs, wobbling unsteadily as he tried to balance on the peg. He stumbled once, arms wheeling as he caught himself. He huffed, snickering as he stabilized.

“Rise and shine.” He sang quietly as he explored the corn field. Amused at the largeness of it all. He could easily amuse himself with the maze for hours, making new patterns and paths as he went. But it wouldn’t be tonight. 

No. No. No. Tonight he had better things to do. 

He was going to figure out just what the lay of the land was, see if he could figure out just what exactly he was, or at least try to figure out what had happened to him.

Or if that didn’t happen? Perhaps just get into some trouble if he could. And all under the farmer’s nose. Easy and simple. Well that was if he could keep quiet.

Quiet like a church mouse. No. Like a rat, they were sneakier. 

He tittered at the notion. A rat, of course. Rats were smarter, craftier, than mice were. 

His eyes lit up at a thought, a light bulb blinking over his head. It was going to be a challenge, a game.The scarecrow was sure that would be fun. He giggled manically, hopping from foot to peg leg and back in a giddy sort of dance. Like a child who had come up with a brilliant plan.

It was all so brilliant. The plan, he was as well of course. One had to be brilliant to come up with such a good scheme. Smart like a rat.

He headed toward the farmhouse, ready for the game to start. 

He would do something simple at first, but what could he do? He paused in his hobbling, pursing his lips. Now that was the real question wasn’t it? He hid in the shadows, paranoid that the farmer was watching the creature from a darkened window.  No. No he had to be sleeping, with how much he worked in the field all day? He was probably dead tired. 

He peeked into the chicken hutch cooing at the sleepy birds softly. They in turn clucked and looked at him with curious eyes. “Roight sorry bout that last night, rude of me that was. Promise I won’t bother ye less I want to let ye out.” He promised as they feel back asleep, paying the scarecrow no mind. He would let them out next time. Maybe. Maybe if they didn’t feel the need to launch at him again.

_ Right. Right now what to do to start the game. _

Carefully he hobbled to the barn, giving a wary glance to the window as he silently undid the barn door. He opened it just enough for him to slip through before closing the door.  He sighed happily over  at the coziness of the building. He liked the barn. The piglets perked up, Hazel only giving a groink of acknowledgement. He grinned, blinking orange eyes at them. “G’day me pals. Saw yah earlier, have fun runnin’ about? Too bad I couldn’t join yah.” He leaned over the pen, happily petting and cooing at the small animals and their happy oinks and grunts. He didn’t know their names, so he decided to name them himself. Pointing at each he went down the list from the largest to smallest. Blacky, Bomber, Tick, Tock, Ash, and the smallest was Cherry. The littlest was so aptly named due to its dynamite personality.

After a good few minutes of coddling the pigs he pulled away, peeking around the lowly lit barn.  He explored the loft, flopping around on the large hay bales and beginning to plot his game. He looked down from the loft, the upper half of his torso hanging off of it. His eyes light up at all of the tools that glistened in the low lighting. 

The tools, something the farmer would use constantly.

_ Perfect.  _

That would how he would start the game. Scrambling down the ladder his peg leg slipped halfway down, making him yelp. He landed harshly on his back, making him curse.  Luckily he didn’t feel anything broken. That would be a bummer.   
He stood back up, heading back to the table he was on earlier that morning. There was a wide variety of tools, from sickles, wrenches, various other tools he couldn’t place. He saw a oddly shaped one. It looked like a gun, but there was a shiny sharp bit at the end. He picked it up with his good hand. Was It a gun? Where did the bullet go? “This is a odd little doodad.”

His finger squeezed the trigger and he squawked in terror, dropping the thing as the bit end of it began to spin and it buzzed. The scarecrow stumbled back onto his butt, eyes wide. “What the hell?!” He crawled close to the drill again, tilting his head again as he picked it back up again. He was careful when he pulled the trigger again on the odd tool, tittering wildly as the bit at the end spun quickly over and over. He liked this. Whatever it was. But it seemed like something that would easily be missed. Not common.

No. Hayseed had to start off simple. Simple and sneaky. 

Sneaky and brilliant. 

He stood back up more easily this time, sure he wobbled but at least he was getting the hang of it. Setting the drill on the table he began to ponder through the items. Some looked familiar, others didn’t. He gave great care at looking over the unfamiliar ones.  Some of them whirred like the one he had held earlier. Others seemed to be part of something else, he had fun just trying to figure out what they even did. 

Half the night had passed before the creature even noticed, to distracted by all the toys to be examined.  He jerked up from the table, glancing at the barn window. The night was only a shade lighter than before. 

Time to put his plan into action.

Hayseed easily snatched up a massive sized wrench, humming over it happily. He pursed his lips and headed towards the door again. Now he just had to find the perfect place to hide it. Humming he beamed, he had just the place.

Peeking out the door he made sure that there was indeed no one around. Once the coast was clear he snuck out and closed the door behind him, waving good night to the sleeping pigs. The scarecrow then went back over to the hutch. The chickens were all asleep, clucking as they dreamed about whatever it was chickens dreamed about.

What did chickens dream about anyways? Hayseed wondered if they dreamt like people, or if they dreamed of nothing at all. 

He guessed it was about other chickens, and worms.Or whatever it was that they ate anyways.

Carefully, only waking one chicken he opened the hutch door. He then proceeded to set the wrench against the door. It was a simple enough place. But one that would make the farmer wonder.

It was going to be a fun game. Hayseed was sure of it. 

With the one alert chicken glaring him down for rousing her he closed the hutch. “Toodle-oo.” He waved with his mechanical hand, standing once more. Now it was a new game.

The waiting game. 

He really hated the waiting game. He couldn’t remember anything, but he could tell he hated waiting. Made his skin itch, like it had earlier that day. 

He headed back to the cornfield, deciding that he wouldn’t go back up onto his post until the sky lightened. He would have to stand all day there anyways, best get the most out of his freedom. He was more than happy just to lay flat in the dirt, enjoying the smell and watch the sky get brighter as each hour ticked by.

It was almost dawn when he figured it was for the best that he go back to his stance. As much as he dreaded it, the farmer would more than likely catch onto his game if he wasn’t where he left him. 

Getting up onto the stand was the hardest part, awkward and clumsy as he worked to rebalance himself. But once on all he had to do was slip his arms back through the rope and onto the back of the cross beam. He sighed, a little tired from his adventures. Soon enough the farmer would get up and find his little trick.

Now the obstacle was just staying awake long enough for him to see the expression on the farmers face. He wanted to see a different one than the last sour look he got from him that day. Hayseed wanted to see how smart the farmer really was.

Was the farmer brilliant or just ordinary?

Was he a rat? Or was he a mouse? 

The only way to answer that was to wait. And Hayseed hated the waiting game.


	4. Updates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for disappearing. My classes are taking up every moment i have. I just wanted to let you know im alive and that i havent forgotten about this. With final portfolios for englisb and two stats tests upcoming as finals are drawing near i will be extremely busy. I just havent had time to finish the 4th chapter i am writing.
> 
> But fear not i will post soon. So i beg for you to bear with me.
> 
> Lots of love for you amazing cinnabons.
> 
> Kenzee

Read above thank you.


	5. Chapter 5: Even The Best Laid Traps Have Disturbing Quarry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako wanted his farm for silence. Apparently a uninvited guest wants the opposite. Well he's had enough. Not it was time to put a end to this once and for all. But the culprit he was expecting is impossible. It couldn't be.
> 
> Could it? 
> 
> No it was completely impossible.
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY CUTIES GUESS WHOS BACK IN BUSINESS. ME.
> 
> with a brand new chapter! Really it took me freaking long enough. Thanks a lot for your patience finals killed me but i passed ahaha TAKE THAT STATS CLASS.
> 
> next chapter might be up tonight or tomorrow now that i'm no longer in a writers block and have time to relax and write.
> 
> Hope ya'll like it!
> 
> Also side not for all you PC overwatch players feel free to add me on there! my battle tag is Sinnabon#11937
> 
> Toodles!

Mako awoke later than usual, breathing raggedly at the cold that had settled in his room. The farmer grunted annoyed at the sun that had made its way over the horizon. To be honest he was surprised that Chopper hadn’t come in and annoyed him awake for her breakfast. Glancing wearily at the clock his frown only deepened as the red numbers blinked eight AM. Sliding out bed he got ready for the day, albeit slower than usual. His back ached a little from bending over to tear out weeds all day yesterday. He enjoyed the feeling though, it showed that he still had some youth in his muscles. His neck cracked almost comically loud in the silence. 

He lumbered down the stairs, curious at the stillness. Usually it was somewhat loud with the little pig running about. There was a flash of worry, Did she get out? No he locker her dog door before he headed off to bed. His face scrunched up in annoyance.

He found Chopper sitting in her little bed that sat in the picture window, staring intently out at the corn field. “Chops.”

She turned, startling back like she hadn’t heard him walk in. Usually she was hyper aware of him. Giving a groink she hopped off the bed, snuffling at his sock clad feet. She looked at the window before heading into the kitchen, leaving her owner confused enough to peek out the window. Everything seemed to be in its place.

What a weird pig.

Shrugging it off he continued his routine, feeding the pig, making himself hash browns, pancakes, and some eggs. After the dishes were clean he headed out, his pig hot on his heels. She seemed more hyper than usual, snorting at the dirt as she went like a bloodhound on a scent. She had been acting strange since yesterday, to be honest he thought perhaps she hadn’t slept well after being awoken at two in the morning when he went outside. But now? He was sure the pig had been just sitting at the window all night. Usually he was aware of the her moving about the house even when in the deepest part of sleep. She stopped right under his feet, making him almost trip. 

“Jesus.” He growled, stepping to the side as she sniffed at the air. She bolted ahead of him to the hen house, nose to the ground until she got to the hutch door.  
His brows furrowed even deeper than before. 

A large hand pushed Chopper to the side as he opened the hutch door, jerking back as a wrench tumbled into the grass as the chickens hopped out of their home. “What the hell.” 

Mako grunted and went to pick it up, annoyed and confused.

Chopper had other plans.

The pig snatched up the wrench in her mouth like she did with sticks when they played fetch before bolting to the cornfield with a squeal. The farmer stood and gave chase. “Get back here!” 

He wasn’t as fast as the little thing, and with his asthma he tried not to overwork himself. He stopped looking over the tall corn stalks, seeing no movement in the stalks. Where was she? Why in god’s name did she even run off? He heard a squeal near Hayseed. He gave another grunt, this one more curious as he headed to the lone scarecrow. He breached the small clearing, Chopper was sitting a the base, pushing the wrench in the dirt against the at pole before oinking up at the dummy as if it would take the wrench and play fetch. 

Mako snatched up the wrench, clicking his tongue at her in a stern matter. “Don’t go runnin’ off.”

He looked up at the dummy before back to the wrench with a tight lipped frown. Why did she bring it out here? He looked up again and jerked back in shock. The head that had been facing forward was now turned towards him. How was that possible? 

“Just the wind.” He grumbled, blowing it off despite the hairs that were raised on the back of his neck. 

The massive man went back to the barn, tossing the wrench onto the bench. He had too much work to do today to be bothered with paranoia. Mako glanced at his feed stores and groaned. It looked like he would have to go into town. 

Just what he wanted to do.

It wasn’t that he minded the people of the town, Ridgefield was nice and quiet. It was filled more with retiree’s than young families. But even the children he didn’t mind, in fact he would often let families come to the farm with their kids to play with the animals. He enjoyed the sound of laughter and the curious questions that never ceased. His large frame and less than appealing mug didn’t seem to deter the kids from asking for piggyback rides or to be lifted by his huge arms. Despite never being a people person he was more than glad to deal with children. While the younger families were friendly enough neighbors, the elders of the town avoided his home like it was a plague.

When he first came to the small town he was warned again and again about buying his farm, saying that it was cursed and that for generations people left as quickly as they had come. Even the local farmers didn’t rent the land for crops. Old superstitions about cursed land had gotten him a reputation with the town. Often the elderly women would give him saddened looks, as if they had pitied him for purchasing the land. The men would give advice about the land, warning him to leave before his luck would change.

Not that he cared for their advice, or that he would heed it.

He had gotten the land for cheap, and while the farmhouse itself needed renovations more than expected, the farm was in good condition. And it was all so cheap because of some silly wives tale. He never did believe in ghost stories. 

The trip to town took less than twenty minutes down a dirt path that could barely be called a road. His yellow chevy was old and rusting, but with it’s 4-wheel drive it could make it through almost any pothole or mud filled puddle.

He waved at a few of the kids that had come out of the general store, who in turn waved gleefully back with missing teeth and crinkling laughter. Their parents smiled but moved them along. He made his way to the feed store, which sat on the other side of town. On the way he passed the bank, the Deerline Diner, post office, until finally the feed store came into view. It’s silo loomed over the small store. 

He gave the old man that sat in the rocker by the door a nod, Jeremy was his name if he remembered correctly. Needless to say he didn’t pay much attention to names. The store wasn’t as busy as it usually was, only the chipper store clerk was in the building.

“Same as usual there Mr. Rutledge?” The grizzly man asked, standing only chest height on Mako.

“No.” he stated, tilting his cap a little farther down on his head. “Need ten bales of hay and a sack of chicken feed. 

“Alright.” Was all Mr. Garland stated before heading in the back. Mako leaned against the counter, glancing idly at the posters of local events that would be taking place.

“Mr. Rutledge?” A voice called from behind him, a woman. He turned his head and gave the stranger a once over.

She was a small thing, maybe standing at most 5’9”. The woman wore something close to business casual: black blazer, purple button down, jeans, and her black hair tied up in a high ponytail that fell down to her waist.. Her smile was tight and almost too friendly. 

A suit through and through. A sore thumb of industrial providence in a homely town.

“Who’s askin’.” He didn’t deal with suits, not matter what shape they came in.

Her smile didn’t dwindle as she held a hand out, clearly not put off by his gruff demeanor. “My name is Amélie Lacroix. I am a representative in….shall you say. A interested party.”

He didn’t move, she retracted her hand and frowned. 

“What do you want.” A french suit sent to the middle of nowhere, talking to him like he was a old time friend. He sized her up, eyes narrowed under his cap’s lip.

“We’re interested in your land.” The lady got the picture. Straight to the point. 

“Not interested.” He turned back to the counter, pulling his wallet out as the clerk came back with his bill.

“If you would hear the rest of our proposal I am certain-”

“Not. Interested.” He growled, slamming his money down on the counter. He nodded to Garland. And without another word he strode out the door in two long strides. He didn’t even bother to spare her a look as he headed for his truck. Garland had been kind enough to load up his supplies. 

He got to the truck before she even made it out the door. Her face a grimace that did nothing to sway him. “Pardon Monsieur but this offer would make you extremely wealthy.”

Mako looked up at her, shoulders tense and face snarling. “I said I’m not interested are you deaf. Don’t bother me again.”

With those final words he slammed the truck door and sped away. He didn’t bother waving at anyone he saw on the way home, too annoyed to be bothered. The fact that a suit had any interest in a plot of dirt unsettled him. Perhaps it was rich with oil, or maybe they wanted to cut it out to make some sort of factory. Either way he had worked himself to the bone half his life just to get this little slice of paradise. He worked too damn hard to be persuaded by a blank check. Let alone selling it to some uppity french woman with a shady clientele.

When he stepped out of his truck he knew instantly something was amiss. He wasn’t sure what it was but something about the farm felt off. 

There were eyes on him again, that scathing itch that crawled up his arm and left gooseflesh. But he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. It was all too quiet and Mako did not like it. 

“Chopper.” He called as he picked up the feed sack and waited for his little friend. There was nothing. Not even an inkling of a oinky response. “Chops!”

Nothing.

There was a whinny in the back pasture. 

He didn’t recall leaving the horses back there, and he sure as hell didn’t leave the gates unlocked. Dropping the sack he made his way quickly to the back pastures, shoving open the gates with more force than really needed. The horses were fine, grazing lazily on the fresh grass. They turned to him with an almost bored expression. His pig was laying off to the side, enjoying the sun on her belly. She turned her head to him and grunted before laying back in the shade. 

But something still felt off, he couldn’t place it. That was until he took a better look at his horses. 

Their manes, both the horses manes had been braided. The percheron mares had long manes, and they were so intricately plaited into a french braid that it could have been done by a showman. There were even little dandelions braided into them. There were no ponytail holders or rubber bands holding it in place. Just a firm braid. 

Someone had not only come onto his property. But someone was messing with his animals. 

Mako rutledge had a plan.

It would be the last time someone would mess with his family. 

 

He had set traps out, foot hold traps that he had used on the coyote problem he had a few years ago. To be honest he didn’t like using them on the animals, but it didn’t hurt them. Needless to say he had the highest hopes that he would catch some punk teenager rooting around on his land. 

It had three days and all he had to show for it was missing tools and snapped traps with nothing in them.

He had stayed up the night before trying to catch whomever had been skittering about but it seemed this pest was slicker than he thought. He had managed to escape him and all he got in return was a bone chilling tittering that came from the darkness of the fields. That morning his drill was left hanging from the bale hook in front of the door.

Tonight was going to be the night, he had had it with this little shit. Mako went about his day, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. By the time darkness had hung he had moved his traps, ducking low in the corn stalks as not to alert whoever may be watching him. He might be called paranoid, anyone who saw him skulking about would probably laugh. But he was on a mission and he wasn’t one to stray when he was set to a task.

He had been sitting in his chair for hours, the moon was waning into a crescent that gave little light to the world below. Clouds didn’t help the matter. He had been up for almost twenty four hours straight. What time was it? One? Two in the morning? He didn’t know. He sighed, gun resting in his lap as he stared up at the moon. He let his thoughts drift with the clouds, the farm was quiet. Everything was as it should be. Closing his eye Mako relaxed. Everything was at peace.

 

He awoke to the squeals of an animal in distress. His body lurched forward from its slouch, his hands gripping his gun tightly. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep. The farmer didn’t have enough time to berate himself as another high pitched squeal echoed through the night. The sound sent him shoving through the screen door, glancing frantically around for the source. The barn was shut tight, no sound.

No. it came from the fields. 

Fear struck through his system. 

“Chopper.”

The sound of his feet pounding against the dewy grass was faintly heard underneath the hammering of his heart. The sounds lead him straight to the center of the field. Despite being taller that the corn all he could really catch was the rustling of the stalks. The sound got louder and more frequent as he broke through into the ring into the clearing at the center of the field.

The sight before him made him nearly drop his gun.

His pig was sitting on top of the fiend that had been terrorizing his farm for the past few days. 

But it wasn’t a kid. Wasn’t some teenage that thought it would be funny to mess about. 

It was the scarecrow. It was the fucking scarecrow.

It couldn’t be.

But here it was cackling as his pet snuffled against his face, oinking. The very same manic giggle he had heard the night before.

The sound he had made rushing into the clearing had startled the two, the scarecrow (No. No it had to be a person) stared up at him, eyes glowing in the darkness.  
His body was rigid as the two stared off. 

Before he could even get his gun up the thing was scrambling into the fields with a shriek. “Shit get back here!”

The thing was fast, even with its peg leg. If it was a person how did they get the matching limbs? He didn’t think, didn’t have time to ponder these revelations as he was quick on his heels. He stopped, he had lost the little shit.

The snapping of a trap and a startled cry gave the thing away. His traps worked, he had caught him. Mako sprinted through the stalks until he came upon the stranger. It was a sorry sight. His peg leg had snapped under the pressure of the trap and his running. The thing was still trying to get away, crawling through the dirt and whimpering. 

With a large hand he yanked the creature off the ground by the back of his overalls and threw him to the ground. The person landed harshly on his back with a yelp. The farmer’s gun was up before the scarecrow had a chance to get up. He froze at the sight of the barrel, eyes glowing and shoulders tense.

“Who are you. What are you doing on my property.” Mako growled, face stuck in a snarl. When they didn’t answer he shoved the gun a little closer.

“H-hayseed.” He squawked “Been here!”

“Bullshit. What one of your friends think it would be funny to be messing with my animals or is this a solo prank.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. It had to be  
the only answer, the other option was completely impossible. It was completely insane.

“No!” His voice was shrill, digging his jagged end of what was his peg leg into the soft dirt. “Been here, woke up here.”

“Don’t lie.” His hand went to the mask, anger filling him. He wasn’t stupid.

“M’ not! Wouldn’t lie, would never lie. Promise.” He babbled, crying out as Mako tried to pull the mask away. His hands went to wrap around his wrist to get him to release his hold. 

The mask wasn’t coming off, and as he tried to remove it with hard tugs the little thief cried. Something black seeped along the staples that held the mask. The sight made him drop the creature like he had been burned when some smudged onto his wrist. Disgusting. He stumbled back as Hayseed curled up in on himself, hands going to his neck. Mako didn’t know what to make of it. 

He was shocked. This couldn’t be real. He didn’t believe in ghosts or curses but whatever the hell was in front of him he couldn’t explain.

A angry sounded squeal came from behind, startling the farmer as he raised his gun. Chopper came bowling through the stalks to sniff at the scarecrow. Her snuffling stopped as she turned to her owner in a bout of rage and stomped her hoof into the dirt. She was defensive. His own hog had turned on him in a ironic bout of justice. He lowered his gun after a good moment, it was clear that she wasn’t going to budge from her position.

This whole night seemed to be utterly surreal. His scarecrow was alive. The black seeping from the wounds wasn’t blood, even in the faint lighting he could tell.  
There was a tense silence, the scarecrow had gone quiet from his babbling and had yet to look up from his hands.

“What the fuck.” Mako asked the moon, lost.

The orb’s crescent only gave mocking silence as a response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one will be rats POV cuz why not


	6. It Was Just A Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayseed only thought it to be a game, he never would have thought his tricks would leave him one leg short (well...normal) and a angry human against him. The annoyance of the farmer was one thing. Fun. Charming if Hayseed could claim. Anger? That was a whole other beast. Something he didn't anticipate. Or like.
> 
> But Mices and Men as they say....right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey this one is kinda repeat i know but i wanted to kinda set up Hayseeds perspective because i think the next few chapters will be in Makos orup between the two. maybe even a mash between the two!
> 
> anyways angsty hayseed because i like to give him more than just the "forgetful, clumsy, funny boi". I kinda want him at war with himself over his lost memories ya know? 
> 
> anyways ENJOY

Hayseed had been ecstatic when the farmer came home from his trip off of the property, the fact that he had gotten the giant’s attention earlier sent his body practically humming. So he wasn’t dumb. Good. That was always a good thing. 

Games were no fun with stupid players. No mice in this maze it seemed. 

But then the look he had spotted when the other had came back from the pasture made him frown. His expression was different that what he had expected. It was scrunched up, twisted in rage as he came back from checking out his horses. Did he not like the braids?  He couldn’t quite remember how he knew how to braid like that, it was almost as if it was muscle memory. He liked the horses, their manes were soft and they seemed smarter than the chickens. The horses seemed to like him as well- but after the fifth time of them trying to eat the hay off the top of his head he had retreated back to his post. 

Apparently the giant was not fond of his handiwork. In all honesty Hayseed was not fond of this new expression. His mind supplied that the specific emotion was fury, not what he had hoped for. He had wanted to see the other expressions that the farmer could come up with. The end result of his little test  was less than satisfactory.

He didn’t expect the other to keep that face over the next few days as he went about the farm. He was setting traps, which to be honest was pretty smart.  It made him titter as the other had no idea that the scarecrow had the upper hand...Well claw. He knew exactly where the traps were set; the rat knew the cat’s plan.  If he wanted to be technical his advantage could be seen as cheating. That was okay, it would be his little secret.

He also hadn’t anticipated that the farmer would also stay up and wait for him. He would sit in his rocker either on the porch or just inside the house; the windows left open to catch and sounds of disturbance. The man was smart, apparently sick of his game. It left Hayseed a little annoyed, he couldn’t go see the piggies or enjoy the coziness of the barn. He also couldn’t explore the other buildings on the property due to the yard light that hung above the barn. He wouldn’t want to get caught, that would ruin the game. It also installed that niggling fear in his stomach of the unknown consequences that would come if he actually did get caught.

That would be bad. Very, very, very bad. 

No, it was better to remain in the shadows and watch as the other was thrown for a loop as every trap was sprung but no victim was trapped. He could hear from beyond the darkness and corn stalks the frustration. It was hard not to giggle at the mounting anger. The only problem was when he had to get back up onto the cross beam. He had to get up without the farmer noticing. Distraction was usually his best bet. He would toss a stone or two towards the barn until he would move away. Then hayseed would make his escape, leaving the farmer none the wiser.

Maybe he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. 

The past few days had been a challenge, the next level of the game. He had to be smart not to get caught. He had set new traps, bigger ones that could easily break a normal man’s leg. Would it break his leg? Hayseed thought it would; but then again he didn’t really consider himself “normal”. He knew that deep down something was off about him. The farmer also had done double patrols, no longer sleeping as he sat up on the porch. He was more vigilant, even creating trip lines with invisible wire. He had gotten caught in it once, unaware of the gleam it produced in the moonlight. 

He had almost gotten caught. 

Good thing he was a quick learner. His glowing eyes always searching to a gleam of moonlight off the ground. 

It was the third night and Hayseed was getting restless. The farmer was back at his new antics, settled in his rocker as he waited for the scarecrow to give himself away.  The farmer himself was more lethargic this night- whether from lack of sleep or something else he didn’t know. His shoulders were slouched, his gait slower and heavier, and his face in a almost permanent scowl. Overall he was just tired looking. 

Maybe he would call it quits? Then he could go see the little pigs again. He would really like that. He slipped off of his perch almost silently when the farmer wasn’t looking. The moon was bright tonight. What a bother. It meant he would have to be super sneaky, and very, very quiet. Perhaps he would have to be a mouse tonight. 

Hayseed watched and waited. And waited. And then waited some more.

_ He hated waiting. _

After what felt forever the man seemed to doze off- three nights of no sleep finally catching up to him. Hayseed tittered from his hiding spot amidst the corn. It was time to play, the game after all wouldn’t win itself. 

The sound of creaking caught his attention. His head tilted from left to right as he tried to figure out where the sound came from. It wasn’t his leg, nor was it his arm. There was nothing by the barn, and the farmer was dead asleep. What could it be? 

 

The oink from behind made him squawk in shock, spinning around to find the farmer’s pig. She usually was in the house at this hour. What was it’s name again? Hayseed rattled his brain for a good moment as he tried to remember. Topper? Copper? It was something with a “er” at the end he remembered that much. 

“Chopper!” He exclaimed and the pig’s tail wiggled happily. “Are you playing a game too?”

The pig grunted in response, running around his legs. She then ran away from him into the corn. The groinking could be heard in the endless maze of green. “Yah wanna play tag!” He beamed, giggling maniacally. He loved games. With one last glance to the farmer, who thankfully was still asleep, he hobbled after her. 

The pig gave little signals of her location in which he followed. As it turned out she was playing hide and seek.  He really loved this game. Despite his foggy memory he had a niggling feeling he loved this game before he woke up.  

“Gotcha!” He squealed as the pig grunted in annoyance that she had been caught. “Now no peeking, peeking is cheating.” 

With that he was off. He was careful not to go near the traps as he didn’t want Chopper to accidently get caught in them. In the end he winded back up where he spent most of his days. He was quiet besides his giggles. Where was she?

Heavy weight barreled into his knees and he crumpled as the pig oinked. She scuttled around his back. “Oi no fair!” He cackled, rolling onto his back as he was tickled by the snuffling of the animal’s snout. His fingers skittered along the pigs belly- making her squeal loudly. She jumped a few times on his stomach which made him wheeze. 

He hadn’t even noticed the imposing figure that stood in shock until it was too late. His eyes were wide, terror striking through him like lightening.

He was awake, the farmer had seen him. They had finally come to the end of their game.

_ No. No. No. No. No. _

His body went into overdrive as he bolted, panic pumping through his system. He had to get away, he had been caught. That deep seeded fear of this exact thing happening had taken over. There was shouting from behind him, propelling him faster as if the devil was on his heels. He was so blinded in panic that he didn’t even realize where he was running.  

A jarring snap on his wooden leg told him he had made a mistake. The fall was jarring, enough to stun him for a few seconds. He had to get away, can’t be caught. Can’t be caught.

This was wrong, oh so so so wrong. 

Scrabbling to his feet...foot he tried to stand. He failed. His body fell back into the dirt with a whine. His frustration and panic was mounting as he crawled, desperate noises leaving him. Hayseed felt, no he knew something terrible was going to happen. He just  _ knew it _ .  He was being stupid and he got careless.

_ Like always. Always careless. That’s what got you in trouble before. _

Wait what? He paused in his struggle as a wave of familiarity hit him like a slap to the face. Before? What was before?

The large hand on his back ripped him away from any semblance of revelation. He forgot, he was being chased. He couldn’t play dead. Too late for that, too late for anything. He had lost this stupid game.

He was flung about like a ragdoll, tumbling into the stalks. The gun shoved in his face made him freeze, body curling up into himself as if it was enough shield himself. 

“Who are you. What are you doing on my property.” The voice was nothing but venom, making him flinch even more than the gun did. He didn’t like this voice. This was the voice of a stranger. A stranger who loathed him.

“H-hayseed.” He squawked “Been here!”

He had been here. For how long he didn’t know, but he had been here probably before the farmer had arrived.

“Bullshit. What one of your friends think it would be funny to be messing with my animals or is this a solo prank?”  It was a torrent of demands, rage seething from him. It had been a game, only a game. He didn’t understand why he was so angry. He didn’t understand it at all. He had won the game.

“No!” His voice was shrill, digging his jagged end of what was his peg leg into the soft dirt. “Been here, woke up here.”

Hayseed shrieked as he felt  hand coil around the back of his shirt and was half lifted off of the ground, a heavy boot against his chest. 

“Don’t lie.”  His face was terrifying; all rage and bitterness. He wished he hadn’t started his tricks to begin with. 

“M’ not! Wouldn’t lie, would never lie. Promise.” He babbled, crying out as the farmer tried to pull the mask away. His hands went to wrap around his wrist to get him to release his hold. The pain was was immediate, this horrible burning sting as sinew was being torn away. It hurt, why was he hurting him now? He was nice before, so very kind. His hands scrabbled against the arm. His breath was wheezy and labored as he felt something seeped down his chest. What was that? Was he bleeding? Did he bleed? It hurt, too much for words.

And just like that he was dropped, his body curling in on himself. He didn’t mean to make him angry, and now he was probably going to pay for his carelessness. He didn’t even realize that his new porky friend had arrived to his rescue until he heard the farmer mutter to himself.

“You can’t be real. Who are you?” 

_ Lost the game, was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Now he’s mad. Why is it my fault that he’s angry? Careless. Carelessness leads to pain. It always does. _

“Hey kid.” Hayseed didn’t pay him any mind, that was until he was picked up by the scruff once more. Making him flinch. But the expression made him still. It was one of exhaustion. “What’s your name?”

“Dunno. Don’t remember. ye called me Hayseed.” He rasped, not looking directly at his face. “Woke up on the post, Don’t remember nothing.”

He began to babble, swinging slightly as he pointed at the post from his hanging position. The look of agitation was back, as if he was a child that had been caught in a fib. It made him nervous, it made him fidget. The farmer hummed and after a second of staring him down he began to trek back towards the house. He didn’t let the silence go on for long, too anxious and thick with tension. “What’s your name?”

He stopped, pausing in his steps and stared down at Hayseed before continuing onwards towards the barn. Not the house. Not the house of course.  The man didn’t answer, instead he opened the barn door and set him on the table. 

“Stay.” The stranger commanded before wandering off. He craned off of the table to see him go before settling back onto the table. 

He would stay put, not that he had much of a choice. One leg down made it hard to plan a getaway. Instead he rocked from side to side once more- too nervous to sit still. Glancing to the side he noticed a wrench next to him. It wasn’t any wrench though, it was  _ the  _ wrench. The very wrench that started this game he had played. The game he lost. He felt right sore about that, sulking as he turned the wrench over in his hands. He thought he had done so good, sneaky and wily in the challenges the farmer provided. Not a rat, no. no. In this game he became the mouse. 

He jerked back when the imposing figure of the farmer shadowed blotted out the light. He had a towel in his hand and a scowl still on his face. The scarecrow flinched when the hand took the wrench from his own. He looked at it and then back up at Hayseed with an unreadable expression. 

“Didn’t mean to make ye mad.” He explained, tittering nervously. “Was just playing a game.” 

“You think messing with someone’s livelihood is a game?” There was that harshness again. 

“Thought the braids would be pretty.” He got a incredulous look. Chopper distracted him from the expression. He did, he thought the horses would look right fine with a new do. And they did. It wasn’t his fault that the farmer didn't appreciate his work.

Chopper was running under the other’s feet as she tried to climb onto the bench. The farmer cursed and glared at her. There was this odd stare down between the two before he grunted, picking the pig up and setting her on the table. Without even a sound the little pig curled into his lap. Hayseed sniggered at her, scratching her behind the ears. 

He flinched again when the rag came close to his face, unsure of the sharp movement. The farmer paused, moving more slowly as he began to mop up the drying liquid that had settled on his skin.  It still stung- he had pulled hard and torn the skin. “Ouch.”

“Why are you wearing a mask.”

“M’ Not.” He shrugged as he got a slight glare. “Yah tried to rip my head off.”

A noncommittal grunt.  As if he didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t lie though, he had told him earlier that he wouldn’t. Hayseed may have been...be...many things but if it was one thing he was certain with his uncertain past was never a liar. His good leg swung back and forth as the farmer pulled back.

“Hey what’s your name again?” He asked, did he give it? He couldn’t remember. 

“Didn’t give it.” He grumbled, clearly annoyed.

“So uh what now mate?” He tittered, really going to town on petting the pig in his lap. He was anxious, that sunken feeling in his stomach would not go away. “Me legs busted. Thanks for fixing that by the way. Really that was top of yah. N’ I’m sorry bout scaring yah chickens, don’t think they like me too much. Can’t say that's a one way street.” He cackled again as he babbled.

He got a growl, the hand wrapped around the rag had turned knuckle white. It only seemed to make Hayseed babble even more. “But them piggies over there, nice bunch they are. Raised well. Cherry is my favorite, she’s sparky that one.”

“You...named my pigs.”

“Yeah didn’t you?” He was confused, did this man not name his pigs? Only Chopper. “Can’t be picking favorites. Not fair to the little ones over there, really thats real-”

“Shut up.”

He stopped talking, stopped pushing his luck. Instead he tilted his head, examining the other. He looked like he had sucked on a lemon. His face was screwed up in annoyance. 

He tossed the rag down onto the bench and grunted. “You’re gonna stay in here tonight, in the morning We’ll…figure this out.” 

He picked up his pig from his arms, ignoring the squeal of annoyance that Chopper kicked up as she was taken from her position. 

“Alright! I’ll go say hi to the piggies.” He beamed happily, moving to get off the bench.

A Large hand picked him up by the head, not crushing it like one would a grape, and tossed him onto the hay bales that were across the barn. The scarecrow huffed and crossed his arms, pouting. With a stern glare the farmer left the barn with pig in hand, the sound of a lock falling into place. 

“Hey wait!” He called, going to stand up before falling once more into the loose hay on the ground. “Damn it.”

The nervousness that chewed at his chest made him feel a little sick. he curled into the bales,whining a little.  His hand went to his neck-still feeling wetness there. His fingers were smudged black upon inspection. Blood wasn’t black...was it??? He didn’t know, but it felt wrong.

What was he? For the second time on waking up he felt a suffocating loneliness bore down on him. He picked at the hay as he tried to stop his hands from shaking. What was going to happen? The uncertainty was something that made his stomach roll. It would work out, it had to. The farmer was confused, just as much as he was but he had hoped he would get some answers. That didn’t seem to be the case. 

Without a second thought  he half-crawled, half-stumbled over to the pig pen, smiling tiredly at the little pigs as they came to say hello. Hayseed crawled into the pen and let the creatures settle around him. It was a comforting feeling. The warmth.

It was something he missed, something that he craved. And for now that would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! next chapter will be in Mako's POV just FYI. Leave a comment or kudos if you liked it!


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